


Like the Nomadic Moon

by machine_dove



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Magical Girls, Deus ex Kittycat, Fluff, M/M, Magical Girls, Natasha is a Giant Dork, Non-Serum Steve Rogers/Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes | Shrinkyclinks, Pining, The Power Of Love, not quite crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-08 19:52:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7770958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/machine_dove/pseuds/machine_dove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve didn’t know what to expect from college, but he had hopes.  He hoped it would be better than high school had been, hoped his art would improve, and hoped he might even make a friend or two. Nothing had prepared him for the talking cat who told him that he was the reincarnated guardian of a moon kingdom who needed to save the world from the evil forces of Hydra.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

Steve sighed as he leaned back against the tree.  From here he had a great view of the campus, all classically inspired buildings and groups of people hanging out together and having fun.  College was supposed to be different, but here he was, still alone.    


He had tried too, which just somehow made it all worse.  He had gone to school events, only to find himself ignored.  He had gone to parties, only to make an awkward fool of himself and end up drinking in a corner alone.  (Don’t tell people you just met about your dead mom, dumbass!)  He had tried connecting with other people in his art classes, but his asthma attack the first week of classes had most of them treating him like patient zero in the zombie apocalypse.

College was supposed to be different, but so far the only difference was that instead of having to fight off bullies a couple of times a week, he was all but invisible.  It was nice to not have to spend more than he had to spare each week on first aid supplies, but other than that it really didn’t feel like much of an improvement.

Still, at least he had plenty of time to draw, and excellent teachers, and his technique was showing definite improvement already.  His current sketch was supposed to be an exercise in multiple vanishing points, but the full moon, hanging heavy and low in the sky, dominated the piece in a way that belied its size.    


“That’s really very good.”

Steve whirled around, rising to a half-crouch at the voice that seemed to come out of nowhere.  He didn’t have any good memories of people sneaking up on him, but there wasn’t anybody there that he could see.  The only thing there was a small gray cat, nonchalantly licking it’s paw.

“I must be hearing things,” Steve muttered to himself.  “Skipping lunch was a terrible idea.”

Besides, if he headed home now he had a chance of seeing Bucky near the engineering building.  It wasn’t like he had Bucky’s schedule half memorized or anything.  Not that Bucky had a clue who he was - there was no way he remembered helping tiny, awkward Steve pick up his art supplies after he managed to trip over his own feet and spill them everywhere the first week of classes.  Just the memory of how he had blushed and stuttered and completely failed to pretend to be a functional human was enough to make him want to hide under his bed for the next ten years.  But Bucky had been so warm and funny, and his eyes were so gorgeous and kind, and apparently that was all it took for Steve to imprint on him like a baby bird.    


A baby bird might have a better chance of catching his attention.  At least they managed to be cute despite being nothing but awkward skin and bones.  Nobody had ever accused Steve of being cute before.    


A noise from behind the library annex caught his attention, the familiar sound of fists on flesh and someone trying to muffle their grunts of pain.  It was a sound Steve was all too familiar with, although he was usually the one trying not to make those noises.

Oh hell no.  College was supposed to be different.  Steve dropped his bag behind a shrub and ran back behind the library to enter the fray.    


It was darker back behind the building than it should have been for that time of day, shadows thick and heavy.  He could see two people, huge and somehow wrong, attacking a third, much smaller person.    


“Hey!” he shouted.  “Pick on someone your own size!”  Which was probably not the smartest thing he had ever said since it became very clear as the two attackers turned around that their biceps alone were bigger than he was.    


This was a terrible idea.

“Get out of here,” he called out to the other person as he braced himself.  They wasted no time in following his advice, scrambling away as fast as possible now that they weren’t the focus of the two bullies.    


As the two figures advanced on Steve, he became more and more convinced that there was something deeply wrong about them.  The way they moved was too smooth and boneless, and their shapes were off somehow, like a drawing done by someone with no knowledge of anatomy.  When they stepped into a small patch of dappled light, he was able to see just how off they really were.

“Oh fuck,” he breathed out as he took in the slitted eyes and rough, pebbled skin of his opponents.  “I am so fucked.”

“Take this, Steve!”  It was the same voice he had heard earlier, oddly accented, and he reached out instinctively to grab the small disc that was flying his way.  It felt warm, and safe, and as he clasped his hand around it he could feel power flowing through him.

He could see the power flowing through him too, bright ribbons of light moving through and around him.  Where they passed he felt stronger, faster, sharper, and as the light faded he could breathe clearly for what felt like the first time in his life.  It was heady, and the rush of oxygen was almost enough to distract him from what had happened to his clothes.    


“What the actual fuck,” he said conversationally as he took in his new outfit.  Gone were his jeans, tattered shirt, and cardigan.  Instead, he was able to see his belly button because his shirt had been replaced by something that might possibly have been considered a shirt if it didn’t have a v-neck that went all the way down to his waist, where the extremely short shorts started.  Shorts, over  _ tights _ , with boots straight out of an Errol Flynn movie.

“Now is not the time for distractions, Steve!”   That voice again, coming from...on top of a dumpster?  Where the cat was sitting.  Of course it was.  A talking cat, some sort of nightmarish burlesque outfit, and giant lizard monsters.  This was fine.  Everything was fine, clearly skipping lunch had been a bad idea and he had passed out from low blood sugar and this was all a really, really weird dream.  It wasn’t even the strangest dream he had had lately, not like the recurring one that had been waking him up out of a dead sleep, sweating and shaking, that he could remember only glimpses of - glimpses of terrifying blue lights, a talking skull, and someone precious whose face he couldn’t see falling into an abyss.

“STEVE, DUCK!”

His body reacted before his mind had time to process the command, and he threw his left arm up to block the hit from one of the lizard-creatures, who was apparently no longer distracted by the impromptu light show and had gone ahead and attacked.  The blow landed on the shield, and Steve was shocked to find that he had actually managed to stop it instead of being smashed flat.    


He swung and caught the first creature across the jaw with the edge of his shield, then ducked under the claws of a second and hit that one with a right hook that experience had taught him was technically perfect, but wouldn’t have much of an effect.

Experience turned out to be wrong in this case as his fist connected and sent the second creature flying.

“Quick, while they’re down,” the cat said with a heavy accent, “Take the Vita Orbs around their necks and destroy them!”

He did as the cat said, because listening was somehow less weird than the alternative, yanking the faintly glowing orbs off the necks of the two lizard beasts and stomping them under his ridiculous boots.  As soon as he did the two lizard-creatures shrank down, skin smoothing, revealing two perfectly ordinary rugby players instead of the horrifying monsters they had been just moments before.

“No, seriously, what the fuck?”

“Just leave them, they’ll wake up on their own in a couple of minutes, no worse for wear for their experience,” the cat responded.

Steve looked over at the cat, glanced down at the two former-lizard-creatures, and then pinched himself on the arm, hard.  He forgot to account for his newfound strength, though, and it ended up hurting more than he had anticipated.

“This isn’t a dream, is it?”  He sighed.

“It most certainly is not,” the cat said.  “Please, transform back and I will explain everything back at your house.”

“And how, exactly, and I supposed to do that?” Steve asked.  Talking back to a cat was somehow weirder than taking orders from one.

“Just concentrate, breathe deeply, will yourself back to your default state.”

He was going to miss breathing deeply, he thought as the shield shrank, his clothes reformed into something he wouldn’t be embarrassed to have his mother see him in, and his boots returned to their normal, non-pirate state.    


Lizard monsters, talking cats, no Bucky, and he still hadn’t gotten anything to eat.  This was turning out to be the worst day ever.

 

* * *

“And so you see that you are the reincarnation of the Guardian of the Golden Marvel Kingdom, Nomad!” the cat, Erskine, concluded with a dramatic flourish of one paw.  Honestly, Steve probably should have been paying more attention to the  _ talking cat _ who had just helped him fight  _ rugby lizard monsters _ , but the strength and ability to breathe hadn’t faded when he transformed back, which was more than slightly distracting.  The shield had shrunk to a tiny medallion that he was now wearing as a pendant around his neck.

Even more of a distraction was the fact that apparently his transformation had fixed his colorblindness as well, and new colors and hues in all their intensities were breathtakingly incredible.  It hadn’t been as obvious in the dappled shadows where he had fought, but he had tripped over his own feet more than once on his way back home, entirely enchanted by the vibrant interplay of newly visible colors.    


Between the colors, and being able to breathe clearly, and the fact that for the first time in his life absolutely nothing hurt, even stories of mythological moon kingdoms and evil forces were a secondary concern at best.

“Steven!  It is very important that you pay attention!”  Erskine’s tail twitched in irritation.  “The forces of Hydra are already at work on some nefarious scheme.  If you don’t stop them they’ll take over the world and start a new Age of Terror!”

“I just…”  Steve sighed.  “I don’t understand why you’d pick me for this, or how I’m supposed to find these other warriors, or how those rugby players turned into giant lizard monsters.  For that matter, why do you need me to find the other warriors?  Can’t you just find them like you found me?”

“I’m afraid it doesn’t work like that, Steven.  I cannot sense their energy until I feel it interacting with yours.”

“I still think you’ve made some kind of mistake.”

Erskine walked closer to Steve and put one paw up to his face.  “Steven, there is no mistake.  Your heart that will see you through, trust in that.  You’re a good man with a good heart, and that will lead you to victory.  Just keep your shield on you at all times.  I haven’t been able to discover Hydra’s plans yet so you must remain aware!”

 

* * *

Steve kept his shield with him and his eyes open, but for the next couple of weeks absolutely nothing out of the ordinary happened.  His art professors were delighted with his newfound skill with color, and he still forgot to eat, failed to make any friends, and pined over Bucky from a distance.    


He still had that dream, too, the one where he felt the weight of a warm hand on his shoulder or a comforting presence at his side, until it was taken away from him by fire and ice, one more absence that haunted his nights.    


Today Bucky was playing frisbee on the quad with some of his friends, laughing and smiling and looking absolutely breathtaking with his face sheened with sweat and his hair falling out of a ponytail.  Steve was caught up in yet another sketch of him, trying to catch the way he moved on paper when someone sat down next to him, taking him by surprise.

“Wow,” she said.  “You’ve got it bad.”    


Steve could feel himself turning red all the way to his toes.  “I’m not...I mean...I don’t...just-”

She laughed.  “Don’t even worry about it, he’s certainly pretty enough,” she said as she stuck out one hand.  “I’m Natasha, from your Lit class.  Steve, right?”

“Yes,” Steve said as he shook her hand gingerly.  She was gorgeous, and he couldn’t help but think that she had some ulterior motive for talking to him.  It wasn’t like his time was in much demand by anybody who wasn’t either grading him or wanting him to fight off mystical enemies.

“Look, let me be straight,” she continued with a flick of her red hair.  “We’ve been in class together for more than a month, and you haven’t spent hours staring at my boobs like basically every other asshole I’ve met on this campus.  That means you’re either gay or otherwise not into objectifying random women, so-”

“I’m bi, actually,” Steve said.  This might be the most surreal conversation he had ever had, even including the one about how he was actually a reincarnated moon guardian.

“Whatever,” she said with a wave of her hand.  “I’ve decided we should be friends.”

“Just like that?”

Natasha nodded.  “Just like that.  I have a good feeling about you, Steve.”

Steve wasn’t convinced that this wasn’t some kind prank, but despite that he had a good feeling about her too.  He felt warm as he met her eyes and smiled.  

 

* * *

Colors were the worst.

Steve’s first forays into adding color into his art had been fairly easy, using a single shade against the monochrome to draw the eye, but multiple colors?  Trying to use multiple colors was like learning to draw all over again.  His highlights were wrong, the textures were all over the place, and layering colors wasn’t working at  _ all _ the way it should.

This was supposed to be a simple nature study, but it looked like a toddler had colored over his sketch with crayons.  It was a disaster, hours of work utterly wasted, and now he was going to have to start over from scratch so he’d have a piece he could actually turn in.

This was the worst day.

Thinking this was a mistake, as it apparently invited misfortune.  There was a group of students walking along the sidewalk nearby, laughing and joking as they passed.  One shoved a second, who lost her balance, stumbled, and tripped over Steve’s pencils, scattering them everywhere.    


“Sorry, bro!” she said as her friend grabbed her arm and hauled her away.  They were both still laughing.  Steve knew they weren’t laughing at him (probably), but knowing that didn’t make him feel any better.

His limbs felt heavy, weighed down by the air and existential despair as he slowly started gathering his pencils one by one.  He wasn’t really paying attention, so it caught him off guard when another hand beat him to one of his pencils.

“Here,” said a familiar (lovely, perfect) voice.    


Steve looked up to meet Bucky’s blue, blue eyes, so close that Steve could make out the darker ring on the outside of his iris.  He let out a squeak in response that might have been embarrassing if Steve hadn’t been so completely overwhelmed.  He reached his hand out slowly to take the pencil, fingers brushing against Bucky’s.

“Th--thank you,” Steve stuttered out.    


The red flush that bloomed across Bucky’s cheeks must be from the wind.  “It’s no problem at all, seems to happen to you a lot,” Bucky said, grabbing a couple more pencils that were out of Steve’s reach and settling onto the ground next to him.  Bucky gestured at Steve’s sketchbook.  “May I?”

Steve just stared for a second until the words penetrated.  He thought he could feel his fingers still tingling where they had touched Bucky’s skin.  “Oh, um, sure.”

Bucky wasted no time, picking up the sketchbook and flipping through it.  “Wow!  These are -- wow, you’re really talented.  I mean, I’ve seen you around and you always seem to be drawing something so you must have worked really hard to be this good, but...wow.”  He laughed a little.  “I swear I’m usually more articulate than this.”

The strangled sound Steve made in response would probably bother him later when he mentally replayed this, but at the moment he felt as if he had been bodily transported to the heavens.  It wasn’t much of a stretch, not with a literal angel sitting next to him.

“Oh!”  Bucky jumped.  “I’m Bucky.  Bucky Barnes, nice to meet you,” he said as he stuck out one hand.

“Steve Rogers,” he said, instead of ‘I know,’ because that would be creepy.  He was still holding Bucky’s hand - not shaking any more, just...holding.  That was probably also creepy, but Bucky didn’t seem to be making any move to let go either.  “I’m an art major, but you probably already figured that out.”

“Yea, the sketchbook was kind of a clue,” Bucky said with a laugh, finally taking his hand back so he could turn another page.  “I’m in comp-sci, which they don’t tell you is mostly cursing about semicolons.”  Steve laughed on cue.  “But seriously, your art is incredible.  It looks like the leaves on this tree are just waiting for a breeze to start rustling.”

“Thank you, really.  I used to get sick a lot, so I spent a lot of time in bed, and you can only watch TV for so long until you lose your mind.  So I had a lot of time to draw,” Steve said, words tripping over each other.    


Bucky’s fingers lingered on a quick sketch of Natasha, laughing as she prepared to throw a french fry at someone off the page.  “I’ve seen you with, um, I mean...Is she your girlfriend?”

“Nat?” Steve asked with surprise.  “No, Nat’s just a friend.  I’m single.”

“Oh,” Bucky said with a soft smile.  “Good.  I mean...not good, but...me too, you know?”  Bucky’s cheeks were definitely looking red.  “Do you draw people a lot?”

Steve shook his head.  “I do some figure drawing in class, and quick drawings of people I see around campus, and Nat’s let me sketch her a couple of times, but I really need a model for a detailed study, and I don’t exactly have people knocking down my door to sit still while I stare at them for hours, you know?”

“I’d do it.”

“What?”  Steve was pretty sure he was experiencing auditory hallucinations.

“I’d be willing to model for you sometime.  I mean, if you’d be interested,” Bucky said as he rubbed the back of his neck.  “I know I’m not much to look at, but --”

“YES.” Steve said in a rush.  “That would be amazing.”

“Good,” Bucky said with a small smile.    


“Good,” Steve echoed, still not convinced that this was actually happening.

“So I’ll, uh, see you around,” Bucky said hopefully as he took a step back.  “Just let me know when you want me, okay?”

Steve could only nod, as he had apparently managed to swallow his tongue somewhere along the way.  He stood and watched until Bucky turned the corner and was lost from view behind the administration building.

This was the  _ best  _ day.


	2. Chapter 2

“What even was that?”  Steve practically stomped out of the theater.  “They just...what _was_ that?”

Natasha shrugged and flicked a bit of raw meat off her shirt.  “That was what happens when clueless pseudo-intellectual blowhards with trust funds are allowed to write and perform their own plays.”

“Nat, he _threw chunks of raw meat at us_.”

“To be fair, there were only two other people in the audience and he threw things at them too.”

“I don’t care about being fair when I have bloody meat-juice all over my favorite sweater!”

Natasha just smiled.  “At least we have plenty of material for the review we’re supposed to write for Professor McCoy’s class.”

“I want to quote you,” Steve said with a grimace, still rubbing at the marks on his sweater.  “‘Reed Richards is a pseudo-intellectual blowhard who should never be allowed near other people ever.’  Seriously, what the fuck.”

“I liked the meat-throwing more than the parts that were just screaming and atonal grunting.”

“That’s a low bar, Nat.  It’s like saying you liked having a nail shoved through your hand more than you liked having your leg chopped off.”

She shrugged again.  “I think I would have preferred having a nail shoved through my hand to watching that play.  Maybe I just don’t understand art.”

Steve stopped dead.  “Natasha Asskicker Romanoff, I cannot believe you just said that.  That was not art.  I don’t know what the fuck it was, but it wasn’t art.”

“I don’t see why not.  If the rectangle primary color guy can be art, why not this?”

“Oh my god, Nat, why are we friends?  Mondrian wasn’t just the rectangle primary color guy.  His works are studies in pure abstraction, asymmetrical balance, and visual harmony.  He wanted to transcend barriers of language and culture by creating a universal visual language.  Whatever the fuck just happened on that stage was the opposite of that.”

Natasha, who had been holding back her giggles, burst out into laughter at the end of Steve’s rant before looping her arm around his elbow.  “C’mon, Captain Art Defender, let’s go back to yours so we can write these papers and then watch a horrible movie so we can forget all about Reed Richards’ Magnum Opus, _The Secret Life of Meat_.”

“I hate you so much,” Steve said, but there was no heat in his words.

The twilight shadows stretched long as they walked, and the wind rustled the drying leaves.  The campus was eerily deserted for once, and Steve found himself shivering slightly.

“Why does it feel like we’re walking into a horror movie?” he asked plaintively.  “It feels like some hockey-masked murderer is going to jump out of the bushes and surprise us.”

Natasha rolled her eyes.  “Please, nothing surprises me anymore.  Besides, the only thing that’s likely to jump out of the bushes would be a stray dog who wants to get up close and personal with your sweater.”

A low growl cut off any response Steve might have had.  

“Did you...did you hear that?”

“Nope,” she said with too much bravado, but Steve could see that her eyes were wide and her shoulders tight.

“Must have been the wind,” Steve agreed, but they started walking faster by unspoken mutual agreement.

It didn’t work.  They heard the growl again, behind them and closer than before, followed by an eerie piercing howl that was answered by three others, to the side and ahead of them.

“Shit,” Natasha spit out, and Steve just nodded in agreement as they started running.

This proved to be a mistake, because their attackers were fast - too fast.  Within moments Steve and Natasha were back-to-back, surrounded by four creatures that looked like the sort of wolves that Lovecraft might have dreamed up.

“You know,” Natasha said conversationally, “we could have gone to the poetry reading instead.”

“You said you hated poetry because it was usually just self-indulgent wankery without depth or feeling.”

“I’m kind of impressed at how good your memory is,” she responded.  “We probably wouldn’t smell like dinner to whatever the hell these are if we had gone with the self-indulgent wankery over the full-fledged mental masturbation culminating in meat-ejaculation.”

“Wow.  WOW, you actually managed to make it worse, thank you for that.  I think getting attacked by these things will actually be less painful than that mental image.”

“Speaking of which,” Natasha said, “do we have a plan?”

“Steve knows what to do,” a third voice rang out.  “Excellent work finding the Black Widow, she will be a tremendous asset in your quest.”

“Wait, what?”  Steve turned around just in time to see Natasha catch something shining silver out of the air.

“Is that your cat?” she asked.

“Yep.”

“This has been the weirdest day of my life,” Natasha sighed as she shifted on the balls of her feet, keeping the not-wolves in view as they circled menacingly around.

“Well,” Steve said as he grabbed hold of the shield pendant around his neck, “it’s about to get a lot weirder.”

The transformation went much more smoothly this time than the first, or maybe it was just that Steve was expecting it - tiny shorts and all.  By the time the shield latched onto his arm, Natasha had already finished her transformation into a solid black suit that didn’t leave her belly button or anything else exposed, with perfectly ordinary boots.  He was maybe a little jealous.

“Steve, I can see your nipples,” she said with the tiniest smirk.

He squawked and patted at his chest, smacking himself in the face with the shield in the process.

“Smooth one, Rogers.  But I take back what I said about nothing surprising me.”

The not-wolves took that as their cue to attack, coming from all directions, snapping and snarling and clawing at Natasha and Steve.  They fought back, moving in sync like they had trained together for years.

“So,” Natasha said as she kicked one of the not-wolves in the jaw, “your cat called me the Black Widow.  Do you have a fancy name too?”

“That depends,” Steve said, smashing the shield into the face of another not-wolf.  “Do you consider Nomad to be fancy?”

“When you’re wearing a stunning capelet like that, anything’s fancy.”

Steve flicked her off briefly before getting pulled back into the rhythm of the fight.  The not-wolves were canny, working as a team to take advantage of any opening that Natasha and Steve gave them, and the two found themselves pushed back step by step until they backed up against a wall, exhausted and bleeding from multiple scrapes and bites.

“This isn’t looking good, Erskine, any suggestions?”  

“Trust your heart, Nomad,” the cat responded from on top of the wall.

“Thanks for that.  Any actual useful suggestions?” Steve shot back.

“Not at this time, but I shall keep an eye out for - LOOK OUT!”

The blinding beam of blue light that shot out of nowhere made Erskine’s warning superfluous.  First one, then a second, then two more blasts in quick succession, and the not-wolves were on the ground, slowly shifting from their monstrous forms into more ordinary dogs.

“I can’t believe we almost got taken out by freaking were-corgis,” Steve said as he turned to the newcomer.  The stranger was tall and imposing, dressed all in black except for the intricate silver armor covering his left arm.  His face was completely covered with a black mask, and his hair hung down in heavy, lank strands.

When the stranger said nothing, Steve continued.  “Hey, thanks for your help,” he said, extending one hand out, ignoring Natasha’s hiss of warning behind him.

This was a mistake.  As soon as Steve reached out, the man brought his gun up again, firing directly at Steve.  He managed to get his shield up in time to block it, but he took the full force of the punch that followed it.

For the second time in minutes Steve and Natasha found themselves losing a fight.  They were no less tired than they had been before, and their numbers gave them no advantage against the relentless onslaught of their still-silent opponent.  For every blow they managed to land against the stranger he landed two, hitting harder and faster and seeming to feel no pain.

A high pitched whirring heralded their rescue, as a blur of red and gold soared over them, shooting the black-clad stranger with a beam of force that sent him flying backwards into the night.  The trio waited for him to attack again, but he didn’t reappear.

The newcomer hovered over them, armor gleaming.  “Nice boots, Tinkerbell," he said in Steve’s direction.

“That’s not my name,” Steve said with irritation.  “It’s Nomad.”

“Whatever, don’t care, see you again never,” the armored figure said before rocketing off.

“What the fuck,” Steve said as he grabbed onto the shield and transformed back.  “Natasha, what the fuck just happened here?”

Natasha, already back in her street clothes, frowned at him.  “I think we have a lot of things to talk about.  The flashy asshole is the guy who calls himself Iron Man, he’s been in the news a lot lately.  I’d appreciate some answers about the rest, though.”

Steve and Erskine filled her in as they walked.

“The stranger in black, though,” Erskine said once they had gotten back to the house, “he worries me.  I think he might be the Winter Soldier, but if that is true then he should not have fought you.  If it is truly the Winter Soldier, he is meant to be your ally, but something seemed badly wrong with him.  I fear that Hydra may have done something to him to turn him against us.”

“I have even worse news,” Natasha said, sounding grim.

Steve paled.  “How could it get worse?”

“We still have to write about that stupid play.”

 

* * *

 

“I think Professor McCoy is secretly evil,” Natasha said as she picked a leaf out of her hair.

Steve, arms covered in scratches from the bramble, nodded his agreement.  “Maybe he’s the Hydra mastermind.  It would explain this assignment.”

“Nothing explains this assignment.  ‘Spend a couple of hours getting in touch with your inner Thoreau in the woods,’ are you shitting me?  Thoreau was a punk-ass who had his mom do his laundry for him so he could devote himself to this masturbatory twaddle.”  Natasha stomped on an offending branch to punctuate her point.

Steve stopped and placed one foot on a nearby rock before assuming what was probably supposed to be a commanding position.  “Our life is frittered away by detail... simplify, simplify,” he intoned with all the gravity of a statesman.  “Easy enough to do when you have friends who let you live rent-free and a mom to take care of all the mundane things that you don’t want to bother with.”

Natasha’s answering cackle was cut short by the whistle of an arrow flying past, inches from her face.  It embedded itself in the trunk of a nearby tree with a menacingly final thunk.

Moving almost without thought, Steve and Natasha stood back to back, alert for whatever it was that might have attacked them.  An ominous rustling in the underbrush caught their attention and they tensed.

The man that stumbled out of the brush, tripping over his own feet, was almost a disappointment.  Steve relaxed, but Natasha stayed tense and watchful.

“Sorry, sorry, I am so sorry,” he said.  “It’s just, I was napping, and you startled me, and I thought...nevermind what I thought, I’m so sorry I almost shot you!”

Natasha just stared at him.

The stranger blinked again, looking even more uncomfortable.  “I just...there’s been weird shit around, right?  So weird.  And something’s been fucking with my shit, and there were like, _wolves howling_ a couple of weeks ago, and I just...want my shit left alone, right?”  He sighed as he scuffed one foot in the dirt.  “Maybe I should start over.  I’m Clint.  Clint Barton.”

“Steve Rogers,” Steve said with a nod, like he had even the tiniest clue what was happening here.

Natasha stayed silent.

“And the rude one,” Steve continued loudly, “is Natasha.”

She completely ignored him in favor of Clint.  “What are you doing out here.”

“Um.”  Clint’s expression was eloquent.  “Sleeping?”

“Why?”

“Because I was tired?”

“No,” she said with a roll of her eyes, “why are you sleeping out here instead of wherever you live.”

Clint leaned up against the nearest tree and slid down until he was sitting on the ground.  “I, uh, live out here.  Kinda.”

“What?!”  Steve should have been embarrassed about the way his voice squeaked, but he was too horrified at the thought of someone sleeping out in the woods when winter was definitely starting to settle in.

“Yea, it’s kind of a long story, but you know the Dean of Finance?  Schmidt?”

“He’s a dick,” Steve said flatly.  He’d had more than one run-in with Schmidt when he was still trying to handle his mother’s estate.

“Total dick,” Natasha said in agreement, tension bleeding out of her shoulders.

“Massive dick,” Clint said with a nod.  “I have an archery scholarship, which is the only reason I can afford tuition in the first place,” he continued with a wave of one hand.  “And room and board was supposed to be included.  But there was all this fine print in the contract, and it turns out that I get a stipend for room and board, but it’s only two hundred a month?  Which doesn’t even keep me in Clif bars.  And I can’t seem to fit in a job around classes and archery practice and running and weight training, so I’m living rough.”

Steve just blinked.  “What.”

“Eh, it’s not so bad,” Clint said.  “I mean, before I came here I lived with a traveling circus, and I ended up stringing up a hammock outside more often than not.”

“They still have traveling circuses?”  Steve couldn’t figure out what part of this story to focus on.

Natasha had no such problem.  “Steve?  Steve, we’re keeping him.  He’s moving in with you.”

“I’m what?”

“He’s what?”

“Your apartment is off-campus, we can fit a second bed in your room with a little work, and you’ll still be able to keep your art shit, it’ll be fine,” she said.

“That’s not the...I mean...are you serious?” Steve sputtered.

“Yeah man, are you serious,” Clint said.  “Because that would be awesome, but I can’t really afford rent, you know?”

Natasha waved him off.  “It’s fine, really.”

“It is?”  Steve’s tone was mild, but his eyebrows were expressive.

“Yep.  We’ll just--”  

Natasha’s words were cut off by a loud roar, far closer than something that loud had any right to be.  

“So, uh, remember how I said something about weird shit,” Clint said as he reached down, feeling around for his bow while he scanned the treeline.

“Yea, it was right after you nearly murdered me,” Natasha shot back.

“Um, right.  I’m really sorry about that still.  But, uh, this is kinda what I meant?  Shit, _shit_ where the _fuck_ is my bow,” Clint swore, right as an enormous shape came charging at them.

Steve and Natasha’s eyes met, and they nodded.  Staying alive was more important at this stage than keeping their secret.  They reached for their talismans and started to transform.

“You too, Hawkeye!”

Steve, halfway out of his clothes and into his ridiculous uniform, startled.  How did Erskine _do_ that?  He was a cat, their apartment was nearly three miles away, but he still somehow managed to just...show up any time Steve got attacked.  

Erskine, perched on a nearby branch, tossed something to Clint.  When Clint slid it on, it turned out to be a shooting glove, vibrantly purple.  

Where Natasha’s transformation seemed to be understated to the point where Steve hadn’t  actually managed to see it happen yet, Clint’s was almost as dramatic as Steve’s own.  He was wrapped in bands of purple light, dissolving his clothes and leaving him wearing an outfit nearly as ridiculous as the one Steve was in, a bright purple and blue sleeveless tunic over leggings, with purple boots that matched Steve’s.

The bear-thing wasted no more time, swiping at Clint with one massive paw.  Natasha flew out of nowhere, knocking him clear.  

“Just know,” she said from on top of him, “that when we’re not moments from death?  I’m going to tease you about that outfit.  Possibly for the rest of your life.”

“It’s true,” Steve said, swinging at the bear-thing with his shield.

“I really, really wish I had some idea of what was going on here,” Clint said to nothing.

Erskine hopped down next to him.  “Hawkeye!  Now is not the time to lay around.  You have a job to do!  Shoot the orb around the creature’s neck!”

Clint closed his eyes and rolled onto one side.  “Welp, I’ve clearly lost my mind, a kitty cat is talking to me.  Maybe I died of exposure.  That’s a thing that happens outside, right?”

“You’re more dramatic than Captain Drama over there,” Natasha said as she reached down and yanked Clint to his feet.  

“I could _really use some help here_ ,” Steve shouted, dodging another swipe of claws that came close enough for him to feel the brush of fur.

“See?  Dramatic,” Natasha said in Clint’s direction before charging towards the bear-thing’s back.  She leaped, kicking off a tree trunk to give her enough height to land on its back while she wrapped her arms around the thing’s neck.  It reared back, clawing and twisting in its attempts to dislodge her, but she held tight no matter how hard it shook, until it finally slammed backwards into another tree.

Natasha fell and landed in a heap, still.

“NAT!” Steve shouted, but she didn’t move.  He charged towards the bear thing, fear and adrenaline driving him forward, but his timing was off and the bear-thing caught him right across the shield, hitting him hard enough to send him flying.

He landed hard, awkward, breath knocked out of him and seeing stars, but the bear-thing had no such restrictions.  It charged, and Steve was convinced that its claws were the last thing he’d ever see.  He closed his eyes tight and waited for the pain, but it never came.

After a couple of long, agonizing seconds, Steve opened his eyes again to see a familiar figure fighting the bear-thing, matching it blow for blow.  The claws glanced off the Winter Soldier’s armored left arm, but did no damage.  

Out of nowhere, a purple arrow streaked through the trees, trailing purple sparks and hitting the glowing orb around the bear-thing’s neck.  It roared as light surrounded it, then fell back.  As the light faded, it revealed a very confused man in a football jersey.

“I have got to stop drinking,” he said as he looked around, before stumbling off.

In the meanwhile, the Winter Soldier had stalked back over to where Steve was now standing, still shaky from the hit he had taken.  Taking a breath, Steve squared his shoulders and pulled his shield up, prepared to keep fighting.

But the Winter Soldier didn’t attack.  Instead, he reached one hand out and caressed Steve’s cheek gently, almost tenderly, before vanishing back into the trees.

“So, um, I’m very confused right now,” Clint said loudly.  “What the hell is going on?  Why am I wearing something even more embarrassing than my circus costume?  Where did the talking cat come from?  What’s up with you two?  Who was that?  Is he a good guy or a bad guy?”

“That’s an excellent question,” Natasha said with a small, thoughtful expression.

“But what about my other questions?  Those were also good questions, and I’d really appreciate some answers.  I mean, I’m pretty sure that those berries I found earlier weren’t poisonous, but now I’m starting to doubt myself.”

Steve trailed along behind them, but didn’t say anything.  He thought he could still feel the soft press of fingertips against his cheek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're not familiar with Steve Rogers' time as Nomad, you should definitely [check out the glorious absurdity](https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard/blog/machine-dove/144114721874). It only lasted a few issues, but it will last forever in my heart.
> 
> Now imagine Tiny Steve in a cross between that and the booty-shorts-and-tights of his movie showgirl costume. YOU'RE WELCOME.


	3. Chapter 3

“If I ever write a soulful country song about his eyes I need you to kill me to save me from myself, Nat.”  Steve’s mind was, as always, on Bucky.  And, to a lesser degree, on how weird his life had become, but mostly he was focused on Bucky.

Somehow, even though she was on the floor reading a book and he couldn’t actually see her face, her eye roll was audible.  “Trust me, that won’t be a problem.”

“Naaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat, he’s so pretty.  He’s so pretty it makes me want to die.”

“Your pining makes me want to die,” she said without looking up from her book.

Clint sat up from his bed, newly relocated to the corner of Steve’s bedroom.  “Who are we pining over?”

Steve was pretty sure his blush was visible from orbit.  “Um.  Just this...guy, you know?  I’ve only talked to him, like, twice.  I’m just being ridiculous.”

“You’re definitely being ridiculous,” Natasha agreed.

“Does this guy have a name?”

Natasha snorted.  “He has the stupidest name in the world.”

“IT’S NOT STUPID, NATASHA, YOU SHUT YOUR MOUTH.  Bucky’s name is perfect.  Just like he is.”  

“Oh, I know Bucky,” Clint said, derailing Steve’s rant completely.  

“You...you know Bucky,” Steve squeaked.

“This is the best day of my life,” Nat declared.

“Uh, yea,” Clint said.  “He’s a good guy.  Bought me pizza once.”

Steve screamed into his pillow in response.

“If you like him you should just ask him out, I’m pretty sure he’s into you,” Clint continued.

“WHAT?  NO!  He doesn't even know I exist,” Steve yelled, drowning out Natasha’s cackle.

“Yeaaaaa he does,” Clint said with grin.

Natasha’s smile grew even wider.  “Oh, do tell.”

Clint shrugged.  “I didn’t really put it together until I met you guys last week, but we work out together sometimes, and I might have heard a few things about a cute blonde artist.”

“That could be anyone,” Steve choked out.

“A cute blonde artist  _ named Steve _ .”

Steve was pretty sure his face matched the red on his shield.  “There’s no way.  It, um, it might be a different Steve?”

Natasha and Clint let out perfectly synchronized sighs.  “Really, Steve?  Really?” Natasha said with exasperation.

“I hear you’re going to draw him like one of your French girls,” Clint added.

“Um.  I have to, um.  Go.  Now.  Someplace else that isn’t here,” Steve stuttered out as he grabbed his shoes and ran out of the room, away from Natasha and Clint’s laughter.

Natasha and Clint watched him run out of the room, tripping over a pile of clothes in the process.  Once he was safely gone, Natasha rolled over onto her back and looked over at Clint.  “Okay, now that he’s gone we have work to do.  The Stark Expo’s opening tonight, and we’re going to get those two nerds together.”

“We are?”

“Of course we are, Clint.  It’s our responsibility to help our friends out and also laugh at them,” Natasha replied sagely.

“You know,” Clint said, “there’s no way Steve’s going to go if he knows you’re trying to get Bucky there.”

“Don’t worry, he won’t know.  If you do your part right neither of them will know it’s a date.”

Clint frowned.  “But if they don’t know, does it still count as a date?”

“Clint, please.  If a dumbass sleeps in a forest is he still a dumbass?  Of course it counts.  You go get the love of Steve’s life to agree to meet us tonight, while I go scam us some free tickets.”

“Do I even want to know how you’re going to do that?” Clint asked.

Natasha smiled like a shark.  “Please, have we met?  I just need to change into the right dress and cross paths with Stark.  If even a tenth of his reputation is accurate we’ll have full VIP access once he gets a look at my cleavage.”

“But…”

“You just need to get Bucky to meet us by the entrance at seven, I’ll take care of the rest.”

 

* * *

“You actually did it,” Clint said with wonder looking at the passes Natasha had dangling from one hand.

“I can’t believe you doubted me,” she said with a smirk.  “Four all-access VIP passes, good for admission to all attractions, a backstage tour, and entrance to the VIP party room with all you can eat everything.”

Clint’s eyes lit up at the mention of food.  “All you can eat, you say?  Gimme.”  He grabbed for one of the passes, but Natasha pulled it out of reach.

“Wait,” Steve said slowly.  “There are only three of us.  Why do you have four passes?”

Natasha grinned.  “Oh, Clint invited a friend.”

Steve went pale.  “Natasha, you didn’t!”

“Of course I did,” she said with a toss of her hair.  “Because I am the best friend ever.”

“You’re a terrifying nightmare and I’m scared to think of what you’d be like as an enemy,” Steve said.

“That is the nicest thing anybody has ever said to me,” Natasha said with a pleased smile.

Any response Steve might have made was cut off by Clint’s shout.  “Bucky, we’re over here!”  

Luckily, the strangled squeak Steve let out as Bucky approached was lost in the noise of the crowd.  Bucky was always gorgeous, but the bright, colorful lights of the expo made him glow like a knight out of a fantasy epic.  

Steve didn’t swoon, but it was a near thing.

“Steve!”  Bucky’s smile was blinding.  “Oh my god, Steve, I didn’t know you were going to be here too!”

“I...yea, I...” Steve stuttered.

“Articulate, Rogers,” Natasha snarked at him as she handed out the passes.  “Now let’s go have some fun!”

The Expo was incredible, half science fair, half carnival, and entirely over-the-top.  Clint took off on his own as soon as they were through the gates, presumably to find the tent that had the free food.  

“He’s nothing if not predictable,” Bucky said with a laugh.  “He actually has a schedule of every single club event and lecture on campus that offers free food.  His scholarship is actually worse than mine is.”

“Yea,” Steve agreed, “that’s why he’s living with me now.  Couldn’t afford housing, and we couldn’t let him go on sleeping in the woods.”

The look Bucky gave him made him feel about ten feet tall.  “I didn’t know you were here on scholarship too,” Steve continued, trying to change the subject to avoid the squirming feeling in the pit of his stomach.  

“Academic full ride,” Bucky said proudly.  “Don’t tell anyone, but I’m kind of a nerd.”

Steve just laughed in response.  “So does your scholarship have any horrible gotchas like Clint’s?”

Bucky frowned a little, a look which Steve immediately decided needed to never appear on Bucky’s face again.  It was a face made for laughter, not unhappiness.

“It’s not so bad,” Bucky said.  “I have a work/study job.  I work directly for Dean Schmidt.  It’s kind of soul-crushing, but probably less soul-crushing than the loans I’d need without the scholarship, right?”  

Steve’s hand moved without his consent, to Bucky’s shoulder.  His thumb moved in soothing circles.  The look Bucky gave him in response was like the sun coming out from behind the clouds and they stood there smiling at each other while the crowd moved around them.

When they finally shook themselves free of the spell, Steve looked around.  “Shit, Natasha’s gone now too.”

“Guess it’s just you and me, then,” Bucky said with a shy smile.

“Guess so,” Steve agreed.

“These passes are all access, right?  So let’s go see the future,” Bucky said as he grabbed Steve’s arm and pulled him into the crowd.

Bucky, as it turned out, was a wizard at carnival games.  

“Most of ‘em are rigged, but there are ways to work around that if you know what you’re doing,” he said as he landed another ring around the neck of a milk jug.  The student running the stand looked impressed.  “Mostly it’s a little bit of math, and some applied physics, and just a touch of luck,” he said as he landed the last ring, winning a stuffed panda almost as tall as Steve.

When Bucky presented it to Steve with an elaborate flourish, Steve was pretty sure his heart was going to beat out of his chest.

The science exhibits were amazing, full of hands-on demonstrations of cutting-edge technology.  Bucky looked incandescent with happiness, dragging Steve from one booth to another with barely-contained glee.  

Steve’s favorite booth by far was a holographic table where you could manipulate shapes or create your own.  They spent more time there than at any of the other exhibits, Steve using his finger to draw in space while Bucky looked on.

They hit one of the food trucks next, buying cotton candy and churros and hot dogs piled with things Steve had never imagined having on a hot dog before.  

“So I’m not convinced that seaweed and daikon radish are acceptable hot dog toppings,” Steve said.

“Gimme, I love daikon.  I’ll trade you the other half of this kimchi dog.  Which, by the way, is amazing.”

“Oh my god it is,” Steve said with a moan.  “We should split two more.  I kind of want to try the one with peanut butter, marshmallow fluff, and hot fudge.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” Bucky said in a decidedly fond tone.  “But you’re on.  Wait here, I’ll go get them.  Should I get the one with baked beans and french fries, or the reuben dog?”

“Reuben,” Steve said decisively.  “It’s like two classic New York tastes smashed together into an unholy union.”

Bucky cackled as he walked back over to the truck.

This was, without a doubt, the best day of Steve’s life.  The only thing that would make it better was if it was an actual date.  It...kind of felt like a date.  And Bucky had called him cute, and won him a giant panda, and the whole thing was so cliche that the only thing it was missing was a kiss at the top of a Ferris wheel.

But there wasn’t a Ferris wheel, and guys like Bucky weren’t interested in guys like Steve.  They went for girls like Natasha and ignored guys like Steve, or bullied them.  But Bucky wasn’t ignoring Steve, and didn’t seem to be at all upset that Natasha had ditched them.

It was baffling.

When Bucky came back he had not only the two hot dogs, but also a giant milkshake topped with what looked like an entire can of whipped cream.  

“So I was thinkin’ you have a bit of a sweet tooth, and decided we needed some backup if this hot dog ends up being as terrible as I’m pretty sure it’s going to be,” Bucky said with a grin.  “Hope you don’t mind sharing a milkshake.”

“That’s fine,” Steve said.  “And I don’t care how terrible it is, we’re eating every bite.”

Bucky split the hot fudge dog and handed half to Steve.  “We’re eating this at the same time.  If it kills me, I’m going to take you with me.”

It didn’t kill them, but it was definitely an experience.  “I have no idea what to think about this,” Steve moaned.  “My mouth is so confused.”

Bucky looked like he was going to say something, but the boom of fireworks startled them both, and the moment was broken.  The silence between them suddenly felt awkward, forced.

“So,” Bucky said again, running one hand through his hair.  “We’ve played some games, we’ve stuffed our faces, maybe we should check out the VIP area next, seeing how we’re VIPs and all,” he said as he waggled his eyebrows.  

“You’re on,” Steve said with a laugh.

Natasha was the first person they saw once they entered the VIP tent, casually leaning against the bar.  

“Natasha,” Steve called out as they made their way over to her.  “You missed all the fun!”

“Doesn’t look like you needed me there,” she said with a grin, tilting her head at the giant panda they were still toting around.  “Besides, I’ve had plenty of fun here.”

“Really?”  The doubt was clear in Steve’s tone.

“Yep,” she said with a nod.  “Kiya here gave me her number and she’s been keeping me in quality vodka, and the floor show can’t be beat.”

“What floor show?” Bucky asked.

“See that guy over there?”  She gestured with her glass.  “Obadiah Stane, President of the college.  The guy with him is Tony Stark, our benefactor for the evening.  Apparently when his parents died he got both of their votes on the Board to go along with the one he already had.”

“Huh,” Steve said.  It didn’t actually sound all that interesting.

“They’ve been arguing for an hour now,” Natasha continued.  “They’re keeping it civil on the surface, but they both have claws out.  Stane wants to put a bathroom policy in place to restrict who can use single-gender bathrooms, Stark thinks it’s stupid.  Stane wants to cancel the program Stark launched last semester to bring in therapy dogs during finals.”

“Stane sounds like a dick,” Steve said.

“Oh shit,” Bucky said.  “There’s my boss, he saw me.  Steve, I hate to ditch you like this but he’s calling me over and I can’t ignore him.  I’ll come find you again if I can get away, okay?”

“But aren’t you supposed to be off tonight?” Steve asked with a frown.  “He shouldn’t just be able to…”

“I know, Stevie,” Bucky said looking sad.  “But I gotta keep my scholarship.  I’ll look for you later -- don’t forget you’re still supposed to draw me!”  He waved once and was swallowed by the crowd.

“Yes, clearly he’s not into you at all,” Natasha said dryly.  “I don’t think he even noticed I was here.”

“Nat!”  

“Shush, Steve, I’m eavesdropping,” she said.  “We’ll get back to your personal drama in a little bit.”

"We obviously don't need a health clinic, we have the lowest rates of illness in the country," Stane was telling Tony, oozing bonhomie and jovial warmth like slime.

“That is...that is so not true that I don’t think there’s even a word for it.” Stark responded  “Pepper, Pepper can get citations on that.”

“Tony, Tony my boy!”  Stane clapped one hand on Stark’s shoulder in what was probably meant to be a gesture of affection, but the effect was rather more menacing than it perhaps should have been.  “Students are young and healthy, and if they're not healthy than perhaps a college isn't the right place for them.”

“Obie, my mother founded this college, and she wanted everyone to have access to higher education, not just people who happen to be healthy.  And while we’re at it, I want free condoms and dental dams available in the clinic and residence halls.”

“You must be joking, Tony my boy!  Of course we're not going to offer free prophylactics, that would just encourage indecent behavior.  This is an institute of learning, not a  _ nightclub _ !”   

“Stane’s starting to crack,” Natasha told Steve in an undertone.

“No reason it can’t be both,” Tony said with a bright smile.  As if on cue, laser lights started lighting up the tent.  “And I’m not done, either.  I want free pads and tampons in all the bathrooms.  All of them, not just the women and unisex bathrooms.  Look, you want funding for that new stadium, I want a few changes to make life easier for the students.  It’s really a win-win.”

“It’s not a win for morals or demographics,” Stane spat out.  His face was twisted into an angry rictus for a second until it fell back into a mask of bland geniality.  “This is clearly not the time for us to have this conversation, my dear boy.  We can discuss this again tomorrow when you’re sober.”

“It will work this time,” Stane was muttering to himself as he pushed past Natasha and Steve on his way out of the tent.

“Interesting,” Natasha said before throwing back the last of her drink.

“If you say so,” Steve said, more interested in scanning the crowd for Bucky.

“It is.  I didn’t expect much out of tonight, but I’m starting to form some theories.”

“Anything you care to share?” Steve asked. 

“Not yet,” she said.  “It’s all hypothetical at this point, I might be completely off-base.”

“Okay then,” Steve replied, attention wandering back to the crowd.  As a consequence, he was the first to see as three giant lizard monsters burst into the tent.

“Lizards?  Giant fucking lizards?  Really?”  Steve’s shout was all but drowned out by the screams of the crowd, but Natasha shook her head.

“Salamanders, not lizards,” she said.  “They’re amphibians, not reptiles.”

“Oh, that’s much better.  Really don’t need a biology lecture right now, thanks.” Steve said dryly, looking around for a place to transform.  There wasn’t much, so he ducked down behind the bar.  Clint was already down there too, with a bowl of peanuts on his lap.  

“Have you...been here the whole time?” Steve asked.

“Not the whole time,” Clint said.  “Mostly I was over at the buffet.”

“Uh-huh,” Steve said with a roll of his eyes.  “We’ve got work to do.”

“You’ve got it, boss,” Clint responded as he pulled on his shooting glove and started his transformation.

When they jumped out from behind the bar the tent was in chaos.  Someone had ripped a hole in one side and people were streaming out, but the salamander monsters were moving fast, cutting people off and scattering them in different directions.  One had climbed to the roof of the tent where it ran back and forth, causing the center pole to sway alarmingly.  It was facing off against a very familiar flying figure in red and gold armor.

"Daisy Duke, as I live and breathe.  If those shorts get any shorter we'll be able to see if you have tanlines on those adorable asscheeks of yours."

“Bite me, Iron Man.  Can you take the one by the exit, keep it distracted so people can escape?”

“You’re not the boss of me, pint-sized!  Not that I’m not going to do it, but I’m going to do it because I thought it was a good idea, not because you told me to do it,” Iron Man responded.

Steve sighed.  These fights seemed to get weirder every time.  “Hawkeye, you’ve got range, keep the one on the roof pinned as best you can, try to hit its orb if you get the shot.  I’ll take the third.  Send Widow my way if you find her.”

The fight was brutal.  The salamanders weren’t strong, but they were fast and agile.  While the team was able to keep them distracted enough to allow the people in the tent to escape, it was almost impossible to score a hit on the beasts, much less target their Vita-Orbs.

“Boys, boys.  You’re useless without me,” Natasha said as she strode into the middle of the tent with a smirk.

“We could really use some help here instead of smartassery,” Steve ground out.

“Yea,” said Iron Man from above.  “Smartassery is my job, along with good assery.”

“You’re kind of obsessed with asses, dude,” Clint said as he shot off another arrow, just missing the third salamander’s orb.

“That’s...shut up,” Iron Man responded, sounding flustered.

“Yes, clearly your wits are the sharpest,” Natasha snarked back.

“Look, you’re not the one fighting a giant lizard, so maybe you could help out instead of judging me?”

Natasha smiled.  “I’m perfectly capable of judging you and helping out at the same time.  And like I said before, they’re not lizards.”

A swipe of a tail sent Steve flying across the tent.  “Is that relevant,” he asked with a grunt, “or are you just showing off?”

“Can’t it be both?” Natasha asked.  “Because it’s actually both.”  She hefted the thing in her hand and threw it at the salamander that had attacked Steve.  It covered him in a fine spray of...salt?

The salamander let out a terrifying scream.

“Now, Cap, take out its orb,” Natasha shouted as she ran back to the bar for more salt.  

“I’ll have you know that I’m personally offended that I didn’t think of that first,” Iron Man said as Steve smashed the first salamander’s orb with his shield.  “Salamanders are amphibians, of course they are!”

“Uh huh.”  Clint loosed another arrow.  “Can you maybe explain for the dumb jocks in the audience.”

“You’re a dumbass, but you’re not dumb,” Natasha said.  “Amphibians have moist skin.  The salt fucks them up.  You’re welcome.”

The rest of the battle was almost anti-climactic after that.  

“Welp, that was fun, hope I see you guys again never,” Iron Man said.  

“Not so fast, Stark,” Natasha said with a small smile.

“What?” Steve said, confused.

“I’m not Stark, I’m Iron Man, a Mysterious Avenger of Justice!”

“Of course you are,” Natasha said, “but I literally saw you transform, so.”

“Dammit.”  The suit’s gold faceplate retracted, revealing Tony Stark.  “Yea, I am Iron Man.”

“So you’re the fourth defender of the Golden Marvel Kingdom, then?   How come you can transform but Erskine doesn’t know about you?” Steve asked

Tony frowned.  “Who the hell is Erskine?  What the hell are you talking about?”

“I am Erskine,” said the cat from on top of the bar.

“Holy fucking shit there’s a talking cat,” Tony said.  “Are you seeing this?  Is it just me?  Am I hallucinating another fucking talking cat?”

“Dude, how do you just show up like that, you’re a cat,” Clint asked.  “Weren’t you at the apartment?”

“Tony Stark, I believe you met my brother before he died,” Erskine continued, ignoring Clint completely.  “His name was Yinsen.”

“Shit, so he was real?”  Tony sat down heavily on one of the few chairs that had escaped the salamander’s rampage.  “I mean, everything else was real so I guess it makes sense, but a talking cat seemed like prime hallucination material.  He saved my life.”

“How did he save your life?” Steve asked gently.

“I think I’m just about drunk and confused enough to tell you that story, Disco Fever,” Tony said.  “It’s kind of a long story.  My parents died in a car accident, I was kidnapped, I was injured when I was kidnapped and almost died, I thought I hallucinated a talking cat who gave me this thing,” he tapped the glowing blue circle on his chest, “to keep me alive, imaginary talking cat was killed by one of my kidnappers, I got mad, sprouted armor, blasted the shit out of everything, escaped, and here we are.”

“That wasn’t a very long story,” Clint said.

“Shut up, it was long in emotional time,” Tony shot back.  “I think I need at least twelve drinks to make the feelings go away.”

Steve worried his lip as he thought about everything that had happened.  “Your kidnapping, do you think it’s related to Hydra?”

Tony paused before answering.  “Hydra like the giant monster?  I thought it was related to being, you know, rich, but given the giant monsters a hydra might make more sense.”

“Hydra is an organization, the enemy of the Golden Marvel Kingdom,” Erskine said.  “As you are a reincarnated Guardian of the Golden Marvel Kingdom, so too have its enemies been reincarnated.”

Tony just blinked.  “Okay, nope, I’m drunk enough for talking cats but not drunk enough for reincarnation.”

“I’m positive it’s Hydra,” Natasha broke in before anyone else could say anything else.  “And I think I know where to go looking for them.”


	4. Chapter 4

“Whose idea was this again?”  Steve hissed in annoyance.  It was cold, and predictably enough the administration building was locked.    


Natasha looked over at him from where she was testing the windows.  “Relax,  _ Nomad _ , if we can’t find one that’s open we’ll just pick the lock.”

“Pick the...Nat, nobody picks locks.”

“I do,” she said with a shrug.

“Me too,” Clint agreed.  He was perched on top of a statue, precariously balanced as he tried to check the second floor windows.

“Fine,” Steve said with a huff.  “ _ Normal  _ people don’t know how to pick locks.  Right, Tony?”

“Hmmm?  I mean, yea, I can pick locks, that’s pretty basic stuff really, but it’s more fun trying to design new ones,” Tony mumbled around the screwdriver he had in his teeth.

Steve dropped his hands and shook his head.  “I’m pretty sure you just proved my point.”

“Look, just because you’re mad that you lost your boyfriend last night--”

“He’s not my boyfriend, Tony!”

“Yea, but you want him to be,” Tony smirked.    


“Shut  _ up _ ,” Natasha hissed.  “Can you hear that?”

If he hadn’t been so distracted by his argument with Tony, Steve would have heard it sooner, because it was rather hard to miss.  It was a...roaring, maybe, crashing, like a train wreck that kept getting closer.  The brick under his hand started shaking, and Steve jerked back.  “GET BACK,” he shouted, grabbing Tony as he followed his own advice and sprinted away from the building.

The group made it to the dubious cover provided by a couple of dumpsters just in time as what looked like half the building exploded outward in a shower of shattered brick and dust.  In the midst of the chaos were two giant figures battling like Titans.

“So we have Crossfit Gumby vs the Yeti, is that what’s happening here?”  Tony gestured vaguely in the direction of the chaos.  “Also, I would like to point out that I had nothing to do with this building exploding.”

“The white one,” Steve said, ignoring Tony completely.  “It has a Vita Orb around its neck.  Hawkeye, do you have a shot?”

Clint grinned back at Steve as he loosed an arrow without even looking.  “Who the hell do you think I am?”

The arrow hit the orb dead-on, shattering it in a burst of light that drove the green creature backwards.  While it was distracted, Natasha dashed forward to drag the rapidly-shrinking furred beast to safety.     


“Ugh,” the kid groaned from inside the pile of white fur.  “What the hell happened.”

“Hell of a party,” Natasha smirked.  “Please drink responsibly, and get the fuck out of here.”

“Yea, yea okay,” the guy agreed as the green beast started moving towards them.  His footsteps faded rapidly into the distance as the group prepared for another fight.

The creature, formerly huge enough to break through the wall of a building, seemed to be shrinking as he walked closer, growing smaller with every step.  By the time he had reached the tense group he was human sized and no longer green, and looked slightly embarrassed.

Tony squinted at him before grabbing him roughly by the shoulder and dragging him more fully into the light.  “Hey, I know you!  You’re Bruce Banner, I loved the paper you did last semester on polymerization."

Bruce’s brow furrowed.  “How did you even read that?  My professor is the only one I sent it to.”

“I might have, maybe,  _ slightly  _ hacked into the email server.  Accidentally, it was in no way a premeditated act,” Tony clarified.

“More to the point,” Natasha frowned, “care to explain all that?”  She waved her hand in the direction of the gaping hole in the side of the admin building, tension clear in her stance.  Clint, picking up on her mood, drew back another arrow and aimed it at the newcomer.

“Honestly?  I’m not quite sure,” Bruce said with a wry laugh.  “It’s been a strange evening.  What’s up with the outfits?”

Steve adjusted his shield to cover more of his chest.  The night air was cold, and Bruce drawing attention to his outfit made him hyper aware of how little it covered.

“Don’t try to change the subject,” Natasha said, tone still sharp.  “Two minutes ago you were ten feet tall and green, now you look completely ordinary.  The white thing you were fighting was changed and controlled by the Vita Orb, we’re familiar with those.  You, on the other hand, don’t fit the pattern.  You weren’t wearing a Hydra device, and you changed back on your own.  We came here looking for Hydra and found you.  So start talking.”

Bruce exhaled heavily and ran one hand through his tousled curls.  “Look, I’m honestly not entirely sure what happened myself.  My advisor, Professor Pym, recommended that I sign up for a campus drug trial.  It was supposed to be an easy way to make some spending money, and the department that had the most students registered would win some kind of a prize.”

“I did hear about that,” Natasha confirmed, but she didn’t look any less suspicious.

“So I signed up.  And honestly, the whole thing seemed super weird.  There was never anything major I could point to as off, it was just...little things.  The wording of the consent form seemed strange, the questions the doctor asked didn’t seem to relate to the tests they said they were running, some of the people running the tests weren’t medical types at all.  Just...small things, that added up and seemed weird.”

Tony frowned.  “So you just went along with it?  There’s no excuse for bad science, Godzilla.”

“Exactly,” Bruce laughed once, soft and low.  “I started asking questions.  I’m not premed, but I have enough background in bio to understand the basics.  And I guess somebody didn’t like that, because when I went in for my check earlier today I passed out and woke up strapped to a table.”

“That’s nightmare fodder,” Clint said with a little shudder.    


“Yea, no kidding,” Bruce agreed.  “There were two of us in there, plus the doctor who was running the study, Zola.  He had these...orbs, blue glowing things, that he stuck on our throats.”

“You didn’t have one on you when you burst through that wall,” Natasha interrupted, still focused and wary.

Bruce didn’t seem offended.  He huffed a little, a dry cough of a sound.  “Yea, that was when things got really weird.  He stuck this thing on me, and it just felt...wrong.   And I got angry.  Not, like, normal mad.  It was this flood of absolute rage, like nothing I’ve ever felt.  It was blinding, and then it was like I was a passenger in my body.  The rage was in control, there was nothing I could do.  After that, well...you saw the rest.”

Steve frowned as he looked Bruce over.  “That doesn’t really explain anything.  You were huge and green, and now you’re not.  You claim you had a Vita Orb on you, but there was no sign of it when you broke through that wall.  We came here tonight to investigate suspicious happenings on campus, but you’re the most suspicious thing we’ve seen so far.”

“Peace, Nomad,” Erskine said from atop a pile of rubble.    


“Jesus  _ Christ _ ,” Tony swore.  “Where the fuck did you come from?”

Erskine, as usual, ignored him.  “You have located the last member of your team, the warrior known as the Hulk.  At last the five of you are together, so you can face the forces of Hydra and restore the balance of the universe.”

“Wait, so why doesn’t he get a token,” Natasha frowned.    


“The energy of the Vita Orb interfered with the Hulk’s ability to transform normally,” Erskine sighed as only a very small cat could sigh.  “The token I had for him no longer resonates.  I fear that Bruce’s transformation will now be irrevocably tied to the unique energy given off by the orbs.”

The group fell silent.

“Kind of strange that nobody’s come to investigate the exploding building,” Clint commented as he scanned the surrounding area.  “I mean, this is right in the middle of campus, there are dorm buildings right over there, and it was noisy as hell.  But there’s nobody here.  I’d think this place was deserted if I didn’t know better.”

Erskine looked around, ears perked forward.  “Hmm, you are correct, Hawkeye.  There seems to be a strange energy blanketing this area,” he continued as he jumped from one pile of rubble to the next.  “I believe the building where the Hulk was found is the epicenter, perhaps the very place where we will be able to uncover the secrets of Hydra.”

“Yea, we kind of already figured that out,” Natasha said as she started back towards the administration building.  “That’s why we were here in the first place.”

“Well then,” Erskine responded with an irritated flick of his tail, “what are we waiting for?”

The hole in the side of the building made the earlier argument about picking locks moot, and the trail of destruction the Hulk had left meant that they didn’t spent much time searching the rooms on the ground floor.  The damage led them to a stairwell that looked like it had been hidden behind a bookcase.  The remains of the shelves still hung on the wall, broken and splintered.

Clint peered into the darkness.  “Who wants to bet that the creepy stairway into darkness is not actually where we need to go?  Nobody?  Didn’t think so.”

Natasha smacked him on the back of the head as she pushed past him onto the stairs.  “We’re wasting time, come on.”

Steve was right behind her, shield up and ready for whatever they might find.  The darkness didn’t deepen as they went down; instead, eerie green lights recessed into the walls lit up every ten steps or so.  It gave everything a sickly yellow cast and added to the unreality of the situation.  The walls changed too the deeper they went, red brick giving way to damp, slimy stones, irregular and ancient-looking.

After what felt like hours, they finally reached the bottom.  There, a large stone archway opened into a cavernous chamber straight out of a horror movie.  Operating tables with heavy restraints lined one side of the room, and Steve shuddered as he noted the dark stains on some of them.  The two on the end closest to the stairs were little more than twisted wreckage, lending credence to Bruce’s story.    


The rest of the room wasn’t much better, filled with banks of ancient computers, shelves covered with jars of unmentionable things floating in a liquid that faintly glowed, and tables festooned with bubbling beakers and complex machinery.  As Steve watched, one piece let out a puff of steam before a single drop of liquid beaded up and fell into a test tube that glowed a very familiar shade of blue.

At the center of the room was a large tank, almost big enough to hold the Hulk, filled with some kind of murky liquid.  It was hard to tell in the low light, but it looked like there was a shape hanging suspended inside.

“Well,” Steve said, breaking the silence that had fallen over them, “I’m pretty sure this is what we’re looking for.”    


“I’m pretty sure locating Creepy Dank McMurderlab was not on my agenda for the day,” Tony responded with a shiver.  “You know, I could be at home right now with a nicely aged bourbon instead of standing here in the land of nightmare fodder.”

A low chuckle sounded, seeming to come from every direction.  Steve pulled his shield up and the others followed suit, fanning out so they weren’t bunched against the stairwell.

“So at last you have found your way here,” a cold voice sneered.  “I had hoped to destroy you long before you ever reached this place, but now that you are here I can be sure that you will never again leave.  This lab shall be your tomb!”

Curls of smoke crawled out of a doorway that had been almost hidden against the back wall.  An imposing figure, inhumanly tall and broad, strode into the light.

“Schmidt!” Clint gasped.  His fingers clenched on his bow, a reflexive spasm that left his knuckles white.

“Figures,” Natasha agreed.

“You fools, you cannot stand against the might of Hydra!  We are greater than you can ever imagine, and our victory will soon be complete,” Schmidt cackled.

“We’ll never let you win,” Steve said as he raised his shield.  “We’ll fight until our last breath to protect everyone.”

Schmidt smiled, a hungry, vicious look.  “Ah, but that is exactly what I am hoping for, Nomad.  Let me introduce you to my greatest creation!”  With a dramatic flourish he pushed a button on the side of the tank in the center of the room, releasing a rush of foul-smelling liquid that splashed around their feet as it rushed across the floor.  As the tank drained it revealed a familiar figure, dressed all in black, masked, hair hanging wet and lank around his face.  The silver arm of the Winter Soldier gleamed despite the low lights of the chamber.

“Isn’t it magnificent?  There were some complications, it was initially unwilling to do what needed to be done, but at last I have stamped out the last ember of defiance.  It is the perfect weapon, acting only on my will,” Schmidt gloated, “And my will is that it destroy you and your fellow Golden Marvel warriors, so that none stand between me and complete domination.  Soldier!  Kill them!”

The Soldier attacked, inhumanly fast and incredibly strong, but Steve thought his eyes looked lost, desperate, in the split second he was able to see them before the Soldier’s attack landed.  He lifted his shield and braced himself as the metal arm hit with the force of a tank, pushing Steve back several feet.  He was able to duck the next hit, but caught the third right in the chest, leaving him struggling to draw breath.    


“A little help here?” he gasped, but the others were in no position to help.  While Steve had been focused on the soldier, the room had filled with more of the transformed monsters, a veritable army of them.  He could see Natasha taking on what looked like a pair of monstrous ferrets, while Tony tackled an oversized armadillo.  Clint seemed to be working in tandem with Bruce, who had transformed back into the Hulk.

No help would be forthcoming, Steve was on his own.    


A fresh rush of determination filled him, and Steve went on the offense, striking back at the Soldier instead of simply defending.  His newfound aggression seemed to take the Soldier by surprise, and Steve managed to get in a few good hits.  He swung with the shield and felt a satisfying crunch as the edge of it hit the Soldier’s mask.

That satisfaction faded quickly as the mask dropped off, exposing the soldier’s face.  “Bucky?” Steve asked, voice hollow.  Seeing that precious face twisted in a rictus of aggression felt like being gutted.

Bucky frowned, eyes lost and confused.  “Who the hell is Bucky?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So my RealLife(tm) is kind of a nightmare disaster at the moment, and it's making writing Really Hard - not just finding time for it, but getting into the right mental space. I had planned to post the final chapter on Monday, but that might not happen. It'll go up as soon as humanly possible, never fear! Thank you all for reading and commenting and clicking buttons - it means more than you know, especially right now.


	5. Chapter 5

The discovery that the Winter Soldier was Bucky left Steve shaken.  He found himself pulling his punches, aiming for areas where he couldn’t do as much damage, fighting to avoid hurting Bucky more than anything else.  But while he was holding back, Bucky -- the Winter Soldier -- had no such compunctions.

He was brutal in battle, attacking relentlessly with no care for himself.  He fought as if his life had no meaning, as if his death was an acceptable outcome as long as he could take Steve with him.  He didn’t have an Orb around his neck like the creatures Steve had gotten accustomed to fighting, but it was clear that somehow, his will was not his own.  

So Steve kept fighting, searching for an opening, hunting for a way to break Schmidt’s hold over Bucky and free him from this unnatural control.  

He fought, because losing this battle meant losing everything, and that was not something Steve Rogers was going to allow, ever.

 

* * *

Across the room, a pile of what looked like debris came to life, lumbering forward on heavy armor-clad legs.  It was awkward, ugly, and stood in sharp contrast to the sleek lines of Iron Man’s suit.  

“I am -- you know what?  I am personally offended at how hideous that thing is.  This one’s mine, guys,” Tony said, matching action to his words as he rocketed off towards it on his jet boots.  “But seriously, look at that soldering.  It’s awful, and I can tell just by looking at it that you didn’t use nearly enough chromium in the steel to achieve any kind of corrosion resistance.  Really, you should be ashamed.”  Tony zipped around the lumbering suit, a kinetic flash of red and gold, shooting off bursts of force from his gauntlets.  “I’m embarrassed for you.  No wonder your face is covered, I wouldn’t be willing to show mine in public either if I had made something like that.”

The person inside the gray suit roared, a guttural, angry sound that crackled through speakers that weren’t equipped to handle it.  With surprising speed, it shot out one hand and caught one of Tony’s boots, swinging him overhead and then throwing him with concussive force against the hard floor.  

Even with the suit, the way Tony’s body bounced against the floor and skidded against one wall was enough to leave him shaken and in pain as bruises bloomed across what felt like every inch of his skin.  He groaned as he went to sit up, almost blinded by the pain in his head.  

Before he could recover, the gray suit was on him again, grabbing him by the neck and slamming him up against the wall.

“I hate you,” the man inside the gray suit ground out.  “I loathe you with every fiber of my being.”

“You know,” Tony slurred, “I kind of get that a lot.”

The man in the gray suit continued as if he hadn’t said anything.  “I have worked for decades to build something perfect, something I could be proud of, and every step of the way you’ve been there, interfering, flitting in to create chaos and then vanishing again without ever giving any thought to the sheer amount of  _ work  _ it takes to clean up your messes.”  He slammed Tony against the wall again to punctuate his words.

“This is,  _ ow _ , dammit, I’m going to feel that in the morning.  This is starting to feel kind of personal,” Tony said as he kicked out in an attempt to gain leverage.

“Oh, it is,” Gray Suit responded.  “Not all of us were born with a silver spoon in our mouths and every whim catered to.  Some of us have worked, and worked, and  _ worked _ , only to see the fruits of our labors snatched away by a drunken  _ child _ .”

Tony tried to get a shot off with one of his gauntlets, but it went wide.  “You know,” he said, the edge of panic in his voice barely hidden under his usual bluster, “you don’t even know me.  You have know idea what my life is like.”

“You think I don’t know?  You think I haven’t seen you passed out on the floor because you were too drunk to make it to your bed?  You think I haven’t had to sit at a table with you and plaster a smile on my face while you tinkered with god knows what instead of doing the real work we had before us?  You think I didn’t see you somehow  _ survive _ the kidnapping I went out of my way to arrange,  _ Tony Stark _ ?”

“What?  But that...how did…”  Tony’s voice trailed off, sounding lost and confused and so, so young.

The man in the gray armor gestured, and the seals around his facemask hissed and released.  As the visor lifted, the man smiled, an expression with no humor and too many teeth, like a shark.  

“Hello, Tony my boy,” Obadiah Stane said.

“Obie?”  Tony’s entire body felt heavy and distant at the same time, and the sound of blood rushing in his ears was loud enough to drown out the rest of the room.  

“Do you know,” Obie continued conversationally, “how long it took me to reach the place I am today?  Do you understand how many bullshit dinners I had to sit through, how many times I had to listen to your father drone on about this or that, or pretend I was interested in your mother’s latest cause?  Do you have any idea how much time and money it took to arrange their deaths?”

Tony made a strangled, broken noise, feeling the impact of those words hit with physical force.

Obie continued over him.  “And then,  _ and then _ , they still found a way to thwart my ambitions, forcing me to deal with you, a vapid, spoiled child.  And deal with you I did, but somehow you found a way to come back, still distressingly alive, even more dedicated to standing in my way.  I don’t know how you survived before, but I will personally make sure that you never again--”

The rest of his monologue was cut off by an angry roar, and a giant green fist that came out of nowhere, hitting him with enough force to dent the gray armor and send him flying.

“Tol’you,” Tony slurred as he slumped down onto the floor.  “Not enough cro’mum…”

Hulk roared and bridged the gap between him and Obie with a leap that ended with him on the chest of the gray suit.  He swung again downwards and connected with the helmet hard enough to make it ring like a bell.  Not content with just that, the Hulk grabbed one leg of the suit and slammed it against the ground, over and over.

Once satisfied, he dropped Obie into a dented pile and walked back over to Tony, shifting back to Bruce as he walked.

“You okay, Tony?” he asked, voice small and tight.

“Y’r like my angel of smash,” Tony responded as the faceplate of his armor retracted back.  

“Well, I’m kind of invested in keeping you around,” Bruce said as he slid down the wall and pulled Tony’s head down into his lap.  “I mean, where else am I going to find a school that puts period supplies in the men’s room?”

“Yea, I’m pretty awesome,” Tony agreed.  “By the way, Obie, you’re definitely fired.”

 

* * *

Bucky lashed out again, armored fist catching Steve right in the gut, leaving him gasping for air.  It seemed fitting -- it felt like he hadn’t been able to breathe since Bucky’s mask had fallen off.  Bucky swung again, and Steve got the shield up, but he wasn’t braced and it knocked him backwards, as off-balance physically as he was mentally.

“Bucky, Bucky it’s me,” he said desperately.  “It’s Steve.  This isn’t you, I know you don’t want to do this.”

But Bucky didn’t respond.  He just kept attacking, silent and relentless.

 

* * *

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Clint couldn’t help but feel giddy as he used the Hulk as a ramp to get enough height to shoot the Vita Orb off the neck of what looked like an oversized (and enraged) lemur.  It had been leaping from shelf to shelf, swiping at the Hulk with oversized claws whenever it had the chance, but it had been moving too fast for Clint to get a shot from the ground.  From his vantage point on top of the shelves, Clint could see that Tony was in trouble.  “Hey Mean and Green, Iron Man could use a hand.”

Clint didn’t bother tracking him, confident that the smash he heard was a helpful one, or at least that the right person was being smashed.  The armadillo that Tony had first faced off against was rolled into a tight ball under one of the tables -- no chance of getting a shot off at its orb while it was like that, but it also wasn’t doing much in the way of attacking.  Natasha had ripped the orb off one of the ferrets she was facing off against and was in a controlled dive to the ground, the second just inches behind her, sharp teeth flashing.  He shot off another arrow at the second ferret, but he didn’t have a chance to see the shot connect because the shelves he was sitting on started shaking.

He looked down and immediately wished that he hadn’t.  There was something down there with entirely too many tentacles coming out of where a normal animal would have the decency of having a face.

“What the fuck what the fuck what the  _ fuck _ ,” he squeaked as he scooted away from it, scanning for a way out.  “Nobody said there would be mutant nightmares!”  He scrambled further back as one tentacle reached up towards him, but his searching hands found only empty air behind him.

“Okay, this is fine,” he said out loud.  “At least it can’t climb.”  Out of the mass of tentacles a clawed paw reached up and hooked onto one of the shelves, and it started climbing up.  “Aww, mouth, no,” Clint moaned.

It was surprisingly hard to focus when an overgrown rodent was shaking you by the neck, but Natasha wasn’t one to let little things like that get in her way.  One breath, two, and there.  Her foot lashed out and caught the rodent’s orb, shattering it.  It dropped her as it started transforming back, whimpering pathetically as it scrambled off for the nearest dark corner.  Natasha could only agree with that sentiment -- all she wanted in this moment was a nest of her own.  Preferably some place with low lighting and a hot tub, the way her head had bounced off the hard concrete when it dropped her left her seeing stars.

She turned at Clint’s shout and immediately regretted the decision as a wave of nausea swept over her. Lovely.  This room definitely needed some vomit to add to the overall ambiance.   Whatever that thing was it was getting closer to Clint.  Natasha took a moment to plan her move, but she closed her eyes before she started running.  Standards, she had standards, and she wasn’t going to collapse whimpering until after this had been dealt with.  Three running steps, a leap up to a desk, two more steps, another leap just so, and she landed on the animal’s back.   Locking her legs around it she felt around the thick fur of its head with her hands until she felt something that felt like ears and yanked.  “Clint, now!”

The added weight of both Natasha and the monster was enough to tilt the shelf, but Clint had enough of a window to aim and fire, even as he started to fall along with them.  He hit the ground hard, focusing more on keeping his bow intact than his bones from breaking.  Bones heal, but bows were expensive.  The shelf was still coming down, though, and Natasha with it.  She had kicked off so the shelf wouldn’t land on top of her, but she wasn’t in any position to worry about falling well, focusing instead on something she had cradled in her hands.  

Sliding his bow under the nearest table, Clint flung himself forward to catch her but tripped on a box in the process.  They both went down, hard.

Natasha’s eyes were closed and she was very, very still.  Clint pulled his arms out from under her, carefully, and tried to kneel closer, but yep.  That was a sprained knee, and he wasn’t going to be drawing his bow with that elbow for a while.  Luckily he had more than enough practice getting around on injuries, and soon he was brushing hair off Natasha’s too-pale face.  “Natasha, Nat, please say something.”

With one hand she pushed his hand back and slowly sat up.  She looked down at what she had cradled in her other hand.  “I’m calling him Christoff.”

Clint looked down at a miniature version of the tentacle monster that had nearly eaten him just moments before.  “That’s it’s real face?!”

 

* * *

A resounding crash from one side of the room distracted Steve for a split second, long enough for Bucky to get in a hit that left him reeling.  He scrambled back behind a long table, putting it between him and Bucky to gain a moment to regroup.  One side of the room -- clear.  Tony and Bruce hurt but out of action.  The other side -- also clear, but it didn’t look like Natasha and Clint were in any shape to do any more fighting.

So.  That meant it was just Steve and Bucky left, which was as it should be.  

Bucky’s steps were slow and measured as he walked around the end of the long table and back around towards Steve, steady as a metronome, as inevitable as an oncoming storm.  He wasn’t going to stop until one of them was entirely defeated.

It didn’t even feel like a decision when it happened.  It’s him or me, Steve realized, and that was no choice at all.  He dropped his shield, not even watching as it rolled away, barely noticing the ribbons of energy that transformed him out of his Nomad costume and back into just regular Steve.

“Do it,” Steve said, voice thick with emotion.  “I know you don’t have a choice.  You’d never do this if you had a choice.”

Instead of continuing forward with the same unhurried menace he had shown since the fight first started, Bucky froze.  What seemed like a million different emotions passed over his face, fear chasing confusion chasing pain.

“Don’t just stand there,” Schmidt called from his podium.  “Destroy him!”

But Bucky didn’t move, still locked in place as if frozen in ice, and for the first time since the fight started Steve dared to hope.  He stepped forward once, twice.  Bucky’s eyes went wide, making him look far too young and so, so lost.  Slowly, so slowly, Steve reached out one hand, pausing for a moment before he rested it on Bucky’s cheek.  

“It’s okay, Buck,” Steve said, voice pitched low for Bucky’s ears only.  “Whatever happens, it will be okay.  Because I love you.”  He stretched up on tiptoes and kissed Bucky’s lips, heedless of the blood on both of their faces.  

With a strangled sob, Bucky stepped forward until he was pressed against Steve, one hand gentling cradling Steve’s head and the other wrapping around his waist and holding him close.  Neither noticed the ribbons of light surrounding them, each too lost in the other to have any care for the chaos around them.

The spell was finally broken by Schmidt’s howl of anguished rage.  “No!  No, it cannot end like this,” he shouted, lunging for a control panel full of glowing buttons.  “Next time,” he hissed.  “Next time, you will not win so easily.”  With a dramatic flourish he pressed another button and vanished in a puff of smoke.

“Self destruct will activate in five minutes,” a mechanical voice said over a set of speakers as emergency lights started flashing from every direction.

“Okay, so I’d like to kind of not move for the next three weeks, but that sounds bad,” Clint said as he used his good arm to push himself up, leaning on Natasha to take the weight off his bad leg.  They started limping towards the stairs as fast as they could force themselves to go.

Steve leaned his forehead against Bucky’s chest for a second and took a deep breath.  “Right.  Right.  Tony?  Bruce?  You two good?”

“I’ve got him,” Bruce said as he manhandled Tony towards the exit.

“You do, you really, really do,” Tony mumbled as they made their way out.  “I mean, I’ve had lots of people help me walk but you?  You have such style, such skill!”

“Shut up, Tony,” Bruce said fondly.

“Yep, shutting up now.  I am definitely shutting up, that is a thing I am uniquely equipped to do.  Look at me, being all up and shut--”  Tony’s voice trailed off as they made their way up the stairs, and Steve found himself wanting to laugh.

“You okay?” he asked, still not letting go of Bucky.

Bucky ducked his head, hiding behind a curtain of hair.  “No, not really.  But I think...I think I will be.”

“Self-destruct in four minutes,” the mechanical voice repeated.

“Well, neither of us are going to be much of anything if we don’t get out of here,” Steve said.  “Let’s go.”

They made their way out of the basement, up the hidden stairs, and through the hole in the side of the building the Hulk had left with just moments to spare.  Steve and Bucky leaned against each other as they stood with the rest of the team and watched as the building they had just evacuated imploded, leaving not even rubble behind.  

“Great, that is just fantastic,” Tony said, still leaning against Bruce.  “Do you have any idea how much paperwork a vanishing building is going to generate?  I mean, not that I’m going to do any of it, but still, it’s the principle of the thing.”

“Look on the bright side,” Bruce said with a soft smile.  “Now you can redesign the whole thing from the ground-up, incorporate more of your ideas for improving student life.”

Tony’s eyes lit up with glee.  “That is -- yes, that is a thing I can do.  That is a thing I can do right now, does anyone have a pen?  I should start right now.”

“Can we maybe go find someplace that is soft and has painkillers?” Clint asked plaintively.  “Steve, back me up here.”

But Steve didn’t respond.  The group looked over and saw Steve wrapped around Bucky, highlighted by the light of a streetlamp that had somehow survived the chaos.  They weren’t kissing, they were just standing there, foreheads pressed together, whispering back and forth, words too quiet for the team to hear. 

“Gross,” Natasha said.  “Suddenly I regret all of my life choices.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot say enough about how absolutely wonderful Sproings and Kalibear are - they kept me sane through this, kept me going, and in one case jumped in superhero cape and all and worked out a scene I was struggling with. Thank you, thank you, thank you. And thanks to everyone who took the time to read and comment, you all keep me motivated to keep doing this. You can find me over on [tumblr](http://machine-dove.tumblr.com)!

**Author's Note:**

> HUGE thanks to my amazing betas, Sproings and Kalibear - y'all kept me sane(ish) through this, and I can't tell you how much I appreciate that.


End file.
